


head is no apology, but go slow

by babylonfive



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Dom Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Dom/sub Undertones, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Organized Crime, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smoking, Sub Dong Si Cheng | WinWin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28652481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylonfive/pseuds/babylonfive
Summary: Dong Sicheng always thought himself too good to beg for anybody's forgiveness, but Wong Yukhei was build different.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	head is no apology, but go slow

**Author's Note:**

> saw these 70s conversation pits and my mind went amok  
> https://twitter.com/kourtinthakut/status/1347243350987059205

Sicheng had entered this house more often than he could count, at times much soberer or much drunker than the state he was currently in, yet nothing ever came close to the violence of the coiling and lashing then, turning his guts into a snakepit of frenzy.

The moment he stepped inside that warm house, a spicy and ashy scent hit his nose, a scent so familiar and awfully tenacious, Sicheng could taste it at the back of his throat on particularly lonely and blue nights, which there have been quite a few as of late.

As he waited for the shapeless conversation beyond the wall to dissipate, he tried to calm his racing heart and stop his damned hands from shaking and turning clammy - a hopeless cause. It's not that he was unsure or, dare he say, _afraid_ of Yukhei's reaction and the possible prospect of cold, hard rejection. No, this was clearly about him and how the mere idea of apologizing made his stomach turn and twist in awful ways. The ride over wasn't long nor awful for Sicheng had managed to distract himself by watching the blurry night scenery flash past him, but now, now that he was waiting, as patiently as a saint, so close yet so far, he turned hot and cold, red and green. He had taken his leather jacket off, but that did little to calm his nerves and soothe his feverish body. He would've poured himself a shot of vodka, very courtesy cooled in a bucket of ice, hadn't he already drowned a good amount of liquor before he left his apartment. Only enough to last him through this ordeal.

Sicheng heard laughter, most loudly and most delighted Yukhei's laughter, a roar amidst the muffled chuckles, before he heard the shuffle of footsteps. Although only his silhouette would be seen through the milky glass wall, Sicheng shifted in his seat and straightened his posture. He watched two men walk through the hallway, Sicheng's attentive eyes following them until they had disappeared behind the corner and he had heard the opening and closing of the entrance door. Only then did he dare to release the shaky breath he was holding, teeth chewing on his bottom lip.

Occasionally, Yukhei would've wanted Sicheng around when business was discussed, and it swelled Sicheng's chest, although he'd never admit it. Dong Sicheng had nothing to do with Wong Yukhei's business, not on paper nor in name, blood, or through any promises or oats binding them together, and they both preferred to keep it that way. Yet Yukhei appreciated Sicheng's presence and input whenever the latter had decided to grace him with it. Yukhei was usually generous with his kindness but it was a level of attention and regard from the man only a few could count themselves lucky to receive. It wasn't every day, but it had become a usual occurrence; one's absence that was as tangible as the phantom of a missing limb. Sicheng wrung with his cold finger, before he finally collected himself, although not his thoughts, and stood up in all his dancer's grace and litheness.

There was the soft purr of music; still 70s, Sicheng realized, something Yukhei had developed a penchant for in the past 2 months or so, and once the man was set on something, it took a lion's strength and then some to tear him away from it. The familiar sound put Sicheng slightly at ease and relieved him from one or two doubts. I did little to relieve him from most of the thoughts plaguing him like vultures did a carcass.

Wong Yukhei did not bother to do as much as raise his head from where he was sitting in the conversation pit, clearly smoking from the way white clouds danced and tumbled around and above him. His white, crisp dress shirt stood in contrast to his tawny skin and the black leather of the couch. From his spot Sicheng could make out a thin, moist glaze of sweat on Yukhei's nape but his eyes were mostly drawn to the gold chain shimmering under the dim light of the lamps. Sicheng can't remember how much time passed as he stood there in the entrance, heart pounding against his chest like a bull and eyes flickering from plant to the giant fresco of a jungle scene taking up half the wall, back to Yukhei and the little milky dancers twirling over his head. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, a voice echoed in the spacious room, rougher than he recalls.

"Sit."

To most it would’ve been rude, but Sicheng had understood early on Yukhei’s brusqueness came from no place of malice, but was a mechanism to block out the unkind disorder of one too many contemplations. On lithesome feet Sicheng traversed the three steps down into the pit and just when he was about to take a seat, close enough to raise no further suspicion, but not as close as he would've liked to, Yukhei spoke again.

"No." Sicheng's eyes flickered towards Yukhei as his heart threatened to come up his throat like bile. _No?_ He wanted to repeat, disbelief sharpening his boldness, but he only stared at Yukhei idle away the late hour as he took another drag and placed one of the pillows on the white carpet between his spread legs before he elaborated not unkindly, "the floor."

Sicheng blinked away the indignation sprouting like weeds around his stinging eyes and slid down to the floor, between Yukhei's legs, and on his knees. This way he had to look up to meet Yukhei's vacant eyes, large, dark, and hooded by his heavy eyelids. Sicheng imagined that the picture of him on his knees, looking up was surely doing wonders for the little god complex, Yukhei harbored in a velvet suit inside his temple, despite the dismissiveness of his whenever Sicheng brought it up.

There was a prolonged silence which damned Sicheng to search the dark pits of Yukhei's eyes as the latter got lost in his thoughts and musings. His only solace was the soft sound of the record player. It was childish cruelty; just as much as his next slurred and accented words.

"I'm very tired. What do you want?"

_Where does one even begin with you?_ Sicheng knew what he had to say, had memorized the line, wrote it down repeatedly, and voiced it in the safety of his empty apartment over and over, but when he tried to speak, the words wrapped themselves around his tongue and kept it subdued. He shut his jaw so he was not gaping up like a fish out of water. Sicheng saw Yukhei lick his lip and heard him sigh and that was enough for his tongue to loosen up and betray him.

"I miss you."

Yukhei's expression only changed oh-so-slightly, out of lack of care or tiresomeness, Sicheng sometimes still couldn't decipher. His eyes only widened and before Sicheng knew there were two cool hands against his feverish cheeks, rough thumb drawing circles next to the corners of his eyes. Sicheng imitated the motion where his hands were laying on Yukhei's knees. His speech was muffled by the cigarette between his lips when he said, "I have been very busy. Sorry." _Sorry,_ Sicheng repeated inside the confines of his head. It was so simple. Truly. Sicheng squirmed but Yukhei only curled his hands tighter around Sicheng's face. Again, Sicheng did the same on Yukhei’s knees, with the addition of his fingernails digging into the fabric of his slacks.

Sicheng licked his lips, dry and surely pale, and gave Yukhei a lingering look. “I don’t blame you.”

There was a flash of - something - in Yukheis 's eyes: dark and dripping with hunger, or so at least Sicheng assessed and hoped for because in the next instant he was mouthing against Yukhie palm, the taste sour and salty as he flicked his tongue against Yukhei’s skin. Only when Sicheng felt a thumb pressing against his bottom lip, demanding to be let in, did he allow himself to draw a breath and open his eyes to look up. Sicheng sucked on the single digit diligently and watched the black in Yukhei’s eyes blow up and when he looked long enough, he found a fire, burning with _want._ _For him._

It was a curious notion, as it always was with Yukhei’s desires and ardors, always had been, and always will be, so long Sicheng found himself gravitating towards him. Maybe for that exact reason, the uncertainty keeping him on his toes, did he return without fail. Sicheng’s eyes fluttered shut as he considered the case of Yukhei pulling away and leaving and felt his heart drop into his guts, but the humility only managed to amplify his desire.

When Yukhei pulled his thumb out with a wet pop sound, Sicheng didn’t waste any more time, nudging his face against Yukhei inner thigh, breath hot and almost-damp through the slacks. Sicheng appreciated how Yukhei petted his hair with a hum as he further crept towards Yukhei’s crotch. The sound of the belt unbuckling sent a chill down Sicheng’s spine. There was a mounted noise at the back of his throat when he felt Yukhei gently nudge his face against his crotch with his hand cradling Sicheng’s skull. Sicheng made sure to look up when he bit down on the zipper to pull it down and found Yukhei smiling down at him around the cigarette between his lips. Yukhei’s musk wrapped itself around Sicheng’s senses, pushing every doubt to the furthest corner of his mind and making his mouth water. The muscles of Yukhei's abdomen clenched, knitting with restraint under every nibble of Sicheng's mouth as he worked on the half-hard cock behind the fabric with intent. It was just at the point when Sicheng’s desire was about to get the better of him, that a fist tightened only enough in Sicheng's hair to pull him away as another hand uncovered the semi-hard member. Sicheng’s eyes flickered from cock to owner. _Go ahead,_ Yukhei’s eyes seemed to say.

He began mouthing over the side of Yukhei's cock, tongue sneaking out for only a brief moment, just enough for the velvet slip of the muscle against the erected member. Yukhei's hips jerked out of their own volition if the dissatisfied grunt from above was anything to go by. It filled Sicheng’s chest with an absurd kind of pride and his hands swept against Yukhei’s hips, holding them still as he pressed kisses against the tip of Yukhei’s cock. Sicheng felt nails scratch at the back of his head, gently and demandingly.

When he finally engulfed Yukhei fully into the wetness of his mouth, he heard the man draw a shaky breath and an indistinct curse. Sicheng made sure their eyes met, and there was something staggeringly satisfying about the creases between Yukhei’s eyebrows and the flaring of his nostrils. Sicheng heard him curse curtly in canto before he pressed against the back of Sicheng’s skull and drove his nose all the way into his pubes. Sicheng did everything in his power to not gag, relaxing his throat and giving in to the urge to close his eyes, wet and stinging with hurt from the intrusion and the smoke Yukhei was so kindly blowing into his face.

A part of Sicheng, guilty and deeply ashamed, wanted Yukhei to just tighten his hold on his head an fuck into his mouth to his heart’s desire. It would have been easier on Sicheng than what he actually headed over for, but Yukhei seemed to be in no rush tonight, whatsoever, his hand lazily guiding Sicheng’s head up and down, as his other brushed the bangs out of Sicheng’s face, a sweet gesture that made Sicheng’s heart flutter. Sicheng had no alternative but to take his time, as well, working over the straining flesh, work getting sloppier with each bob of his head. He held the base of Yukhei's cock in one spit-slickened fist, moving it in tandem with his searing mouth as he found a rhythm. Sicheng heard Yukhei groan and curse roughly and when he looked up, Sicheng found he had thrown his head back, exposing his strained neck and his bobbing Adam's apple. Sicheng wanted to creep up and decorate him with kisses there, and bite down til Yukhei would swat him away and leave his own mark on Sicheng’s flesh, always a little fiercer and deeper.

Sicheng felt Yukhei’s hand stroke behind his ear, his jaw, his nape, every spot hot to the touch. The tenderness almost broke Sicheng; always a looming threat to tear out the dam inside him, but he only whimpered around Yukhei’s cock, which the latter seemed to appreciate. Sicheng allowed Yukhei to push his nose against his pubes again. His ghostly fingers twitched against Yukhei's skin, clenched and wiggled until Sicheng couldn’t find it in himself anymore. And then Sicheng was taking everything that was demanded of him, swallowing until the head of Yukhei's cock nudged against the back of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks even as his delicate throat muscles fluttered at the intrusion, a soft murmur teasing over him.

That earned him a harsh tug on his hair and a vocal curse, damning him and his mouth, which caused Sicheng’s own cock to stir excitedly in the confines of his clothes. There was already an uncomfortable wet spot growing inside his briefs, and he would surely come untouched if left neglected. Sicheng drew back, flicking his tongue against the tip of Yukhei's cock in a way that made the other man shudder and shift in his seat. Sicheng teased at the foreskin before taking Yukhei down once more, his eyes not once leaving Yukhei’s, finally consumed by lust, just as Sicheng had yearned for. One of his hands wrapped around Yukhei's thigh, clutching around it as he leaned over and let Yukhei trust into his mouth. _Just a little more,_ Sicheng thought, humming as Yukhei ran his fingers through Sicheng's silky hair, over the side of his face, and down his jaw. Yukhei sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his stomach trembling in the instant before completion. He came with a guttural sound, hips bucking in Sicheng's sure grip as he swallowed everything Yukhei was willing to give him.

He released Yukhei’s soft cock with a plop and blinked the tears in his eyes away. His jaw felt strained and his throat hurt but it was all worth the expression on Yukhei’s flushed face as he watched him past hooded, dazed eyes, still drawing ragged breaths as he ran his finger through his messed up hair. At that moment, Sicheng shortly wondered if everything had clicked back into normalcy and wanted to hear Yukhei say something - anything - to release the strings still pulling at his heart and tightening around his throat. Alas, Yukhei said naught, out of cruelty or simplicity, Sicheng would never know and he wasn’t credulous enough to believe it’s either. He could only watch Yukhie tug himself back in and get up with a grunt, long arms reaching for the jug of water on the other end of the round, glass table. He poured a glass, took a gulp loudly before he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed the glass to Sicheng.

Sicheng took it if not out of desire, then out of instinct and started drinking the rest as he watched Yukhei watch him. When he placed the glass back on the table, Yukhei didn’t waste any time before he heaved Sicheng up by the arm, which left a holelike phantom pain, even when Yukhei started stroking the spot gingerly. He’d always been painfully rough handed and despite all his attempts to moderate it, most of them only lasted for instances before old mechanisms resurfaced. Like so many things, it was a given with Yukhei, and if it did not befit you, then avoid the lion’s den. Soon after both his biceps were in a firm grasp, Sicheng felt Yukhei mouthing at his neck with newfound zeal, drawing out tiny gasps, and once Yukhei pressed his leg between Sicheng’s, the latter could swear he was seeing stars past the high ceiling. When Yukhei spoke again, it was a hot puff against Sicheng’s ear, raising the hair at his nape. “Sicheng,” he said, nuzzling his nose against the side of his neck, strong arms wrapping themselves around Sicheng’s waist, not unlike the python around the branch on the fresco. “I think, I wanna fuck you in the ass.”

All the blood rushed to Sicheng’s face, his heart putting in all the work to accelerate it, and Sicheng was embarrassingly sure that Yukhei could feel it beat nearly out of his throat. A gasp escaped Sicheng when Yukhei bit down on his earlobe. “Would you like that, hmm?” It would be far from the first time, just as it would be far from an unusual thing Yukhei were to say and ask. Yet, Sicheng couldn’t help the brush creeping up his neck as if the whole world had become witness to their gusto and Yukhei’s indecent words.

“Yes,” he murmured against Yukhei’s jaw, and moments after he was bent over the back of the couch, his knees digging into the leather and his hands finding leverage on the carpet floor just behind it. It only lasted an instant, enough for Sicheng to catch his breath, before Yukhei covered Sicheng’s more effete body with his weight and all his warmth, forcing Sicheng’s chest against the floor and his ass up, trapping him there as he mouthed at his neck and undid Sicheng’s pants - he simple friction of having his pants and briefs taken off against his cock making him feel lightheaded. Once Sicheng was exposed, Yukhei neglected his cock in favor of letting his hands drifting up over his feverish skin and underneath Sicheng’s dress shirt to worry his nipples and make him squirm with impatience. While Sicheng wasn’t terribly perturbed by it, his body hungered for a whole lot _more._

If Yukhei sensed his urgency, he didn’t acknowledge it, only moving one thumb to circle Sicheng’s entrance in a cruel excuse of a tease. He hissed between clenched teeth before he let his mouth fall open in a silent gasp at the burning sensation of his entrance stretched around Yukhei’s intruding thumb. He removed it before Sicheng could indulge in it, the warm hand now replaced by a coolness that made Sicheng coil and retreat, to no avail. Yukhei held him steadily in his place, pushing him back and slowly onto two slick digits.

Sicheng made a clipped gasp and bit down on his lip, eyes rolling back, trying to adjust to the intrusion. Yukhei wasted no time and started moving his fingers in and out lackadaisically and soon he was back, edging closer and kissing at Sicheng's neck. Sicheng remained quite still as Yukhei mouthed over his smooth skin, shivering slightly every time Yukhei found a sensitive spot. It was a slow battle of attrition, a long way until he was worn down and unable to defend himself. All his little composure left Sicheng stranded when Yukhei very unceremoniously added a third digit and forced Sicheng to start crawling at the carpet like some kind of animal. His eyes fell shut and for a blissful instance he found himself enthralled and whimpering as Yukhei fucked into him just right.

It lasted only so long before Yukhei removed his fingers entirely and Sicheng felt his hole clench around nothing, which was almost as pathetic as the whine escaping him, making Sicheng’s lip curl, but Yukhei didn’t allow him to wallow in his chagrin before he began stroking him off. Sicheng's mouth parted on a hitching breath, and Yukhei took that as well. He tasted Sicheng deeply, not even pausing when his tongue was nipped. When Yukhei lined his cock against Sicheng’s entrance, the effect was immediate: Sicheng's pelvis lurched towards him, desperately rutting against Yukhei’s hips. He slid one palm along the back of Sicheng's thigh to his ass, spreading him, and watching Sicheng’s hole repeatedly shut tight around nothing. Sicheng groaned high and airy when Yukhei finally entered his tightness, body clutching at the intrusion. Sicheng was enraptured, yet scared stiff at the foreign body stretching him painfully wide. Only when Yukhei started drawing soothing circles into Sicheng’s lower back did he ease up. His hands were large enough to almost wrap around Sicheng’s waist fully, strong fingers digging into all the soft spots as he gradually started moving.

He kissed the corner of Sicheng's open mouth, and then his cheekbone. "I don't wanna hurt you," he murmured against Sicheng's heated skin. His cock slid languidly into and out of Sicheng, each stroke digging a little deeper, an echo of many nights before, so-so long before; Sicheng had almost forgotten what it felt like - had forgotten the burning sear consuming his entire body. "But I do wanna make you scream.”

Sicheng shook his head, eyes clenching but unable to separate himself from what was happening. He hadn't even noticed how he'd begun meeting each one of Yukhei's lazy thrusts, body moving of its own volition. When Yukhei’s grip around his waist tightened and he quickened his pace, Sicheng was practically whimpering underneath, fingers grasping and twisting mindlessly at the short fibers of the carpet. The left side of his face burned against the rough carpet and he could feel his heartbeat pounding against his skull and hear essentially nothing but his own rush of blood and the frantic breathing that he had taken on. He could only vaguely make out a melody and the obscene sound of skin against skin. His muscles there fluttered in a hard moment of tension right before Sicheng came, with a noise that tore at his lungs.

Yukhei leaned over, rising to the other man's mouth and kissing him possessively as he kept fucking into him, ignoring the mess Sicheng was making of the couch and burying his face against Sicheng’s warm skin. While Sicheng was the kind to unconsciously swallow his noises down, Yukhei was emphatic in his pleasure, a grave sound accompanying his climax as he released himself inside Sicheng.

Yukhei spent a good minute draped over Sicheng, even after he pulled out, listening as their heartbeats slowed in tandem until they were almost the same pace. The sweet fog cleared in Sicheng’s mind, leaving him stranded exactly where he had been the past few weeks, his only company the pangs of guilt. There, back against the wall, Sicheng badly wanted to tell Yukhei to fuck him again, fuck him until his brain turned into a useless putty and his body was stinging with hurt to the point he couldn’t move. But he didn’t. He only blinked the wetness from his eyes and concentrated on Yukhei’s come running cold down his thigh and the spicy scent of his aftershave tumbling around his senses in a cheeky dance.

“Say what you wanna say,” murmured Yukhei gravely, a warm puff against Sicheng’s ear. Everything felt torrid to Sicheng, his own body, Yukhei’s heavy one draped over him, the rough carpet rubbing against his tender skin, the wet streak running sideways across the bridge of his nose and down his other cheek, and whatever animal was clawing at his chest, begging to be released. Yukhei eventually removed himself but that gave little to no solace to Sicheng’s miseries. When he continued, there was a bite to it, “You ignore me for weeks, just to show up and give me the cold shoulder.”

When Sicheng didn’t answer, Yukhei yanked him by the arm, forcing him down on his knees on the couch and to face him. He gave Sicheng a pointed look, now much more sentient than the one from earlier, as if he just snapped back into the real world a moment ago. Although he tried to keep his face stern, his facial muscles wuthered under all the tension and the butt of his new cigarette threatened to get bitten off. There, he was a storm confined in a jar. “Talk to me.”

“Do you think I’ve cheated on you?” The words left a bitter aftertaste, making Sicheng grimace and gulp hard, trying to get rid of the saliva cake in his fluttering throat.

Yukhei gave him a lingering look but there was a flash of something steely and cold in his eyes, and it was just as quick to disappear as it was to appear. “I won’t presume.” Sicheng didn’t doubt it, not when he had seen the lenience and understanding with which he treated his family. Despite all the tales of how it made him inept and ill-fit to run the business, it was one of his defining strengths, and for many a solace in this cruel, eye-for-an-eye world. But Sicheng wasn’t business nor family. Did he have any right to rely on this kindness?

In the dark corners of Sicheng's mind, something spiteful and nasty called for him, urging him to lie, and say he did, just because he wanted to know how Wong Yukhei, away from all perceiving eyes, would react to it but he dismounted, unable to keep struggling against Yukhei’s velvety confines. “I did not. I had planned to. That is why I took him home, but I did not take him to bed.”

“Did you kiss him?”

Something inside Sicheng flared up but he tried to keep it subdued. It was a fair question. “He kissed me once before I sent him away.”

There was a prolonged pause and Sicheng dared not look up at Yukhei, eyes fixated on the droplets running down the empty glass and the mellow synth coming from the stereo and wrapping itself around Sicheng’s brain. He only looked up when Yukhei groaned, almost guttural like he was pained, a loud thud echoing as he flopped down onto the couch. He rubbed his eyes with his palms and said, “damn you and him,” but there was no fire behind it. Just smoldering heat - the beginning or end of an inferno.

Those words that have been stuck inside Sicheng’s throat for the longest, particularly tumbled out from his mouth. “I’m sorry, Xuxi.”

Yukhei scoffed, not unkindly. “Thank god it only took fucking you silly to say those little words.”

“I mean them.” Yukhei patted and squeezed Sicheng’s thigh and said, “I know.” When he suddenly got up, Sicheng went cold with panic. “What will you do?”

Yukhei still had the cheek to chuckle. “I’m not gonna cut your little finger off, alright?" As soon as Sicheng realized Yukhei was only looking for his lighter, he felt about as foolish as Yukhei was believed to be. _Maybe he should,_ Sicheng thought to himself, mostly because he craved - _expected_ \- to be reprimanded, partially because he feared his stunt gone seemingly unpunished would reflect badly on Yukhei’s reputation, but then again Yukhei never cared. Sicheng watched him flick the lighter, once, twice, eyebrows pinched in concentration, and eventually succeed on the third try. The flame danced against his handsome face, only becoming more charming with old age. He took a deep drag and handed the flimsy thing to Sicheng before he wordlessly gathered him in his arms and heaved him up with some effort and grunting. He ignored Sicheng’s demands to be put down in favor of moving straight to the bathroom. Sicheng tightened his grip around Yukhei’s neck, musing and nurturing the sense of requital making his body sting with hurt like one would a wounded bird that had fallen out of its nest.


End file.
